A Little Birdie Told Me

It all started about a week ago, when, in a moment of feverish inspiration, Stephen and I decided it was time to delete all un-used, un-needed, and un-important furniture, appliances, gadgets, etc. which were slowly devouring our basement, attic, and garage. After a long weekend of inventory and a few discrepancies over the definitions of "broken," "tacky," and "antique," our list of obsolete items had grown to a livingroom-full. We called the Ann Arbor ReUse Center, and these two perky twenty-somethings showed up to haul away our stuff (they were WONDERFUL; they took EVERYTHING). Just like that, the clutter was gone. How totally and utterly freeing! That night, as we sat in our clutter-free living room, with our clutter-free basement beneath us and our clutter-free attic above us, we started to ponder WHY, at this moment in time, it seemed so important to clear our lives of the unnecessary. We came up with an underlying theme: Baby.

Baby Thought #1: Only 7 weeks left. It's "now or never" for home project undertakings.
Baby Thought #2: We've got this inkling that being new parents will be just a tad bit stressful. In an attempt to remain somewhat sane throughout the process, it seems logical to create as much open, uncluttered thinking/feeling/living space as possible.
Baby Thought #3: Baby = more stuff (read: inevitable clutter).

I've heard that this instinct to clean and prepare for the little one is called "Nesting." A mere month ago, I scoffed at the notion. But now I feel totally and utterly powerless. I must admit, I have always been a bit of a neat freak, but it's really much worse in my present state. Last week, as I bent down to wipe up a spill on the kitchen floor, I happened to notice the total griminess of the baseboards. So I started scrubbing, which lead me on a whirlwind tour of the kitchen, visiting all the most offensive, overlooked places—the side of the oven; the cupboard doors (inside AND out); the walls with their scuff marks; the ceiling cobwebs; the spilly drips on the trash can; and the floor, which really needed a good mopping. Dirty places I had never even noticed before I was pregnant were suddenly screaming out to be purified. And every day since, I simply haven't been able to resist the urge to sweep up any crumbs I can see (believe me, I can see them ALL).

Maybe this nesting thing is a response to some primal need for a clean baby environment. Or maybe it's because soon-to-be parents start to realize just how little time and energy they'll have for things like mopping the floor once Baby arrives. Or maybe it's just that I'm a little bit neurotic, and the hormones are bringing out the true crazy in me. Whatever the case, all I can do is keep on sweeping...and daydreaming about that amazing day when Baby will be old enough to crawl around on this momentarily sparkly-clean linoleum.